WaT Conversations
by Mariel3
Summary: You never know where a conversation might go... JS
1. A: You Never Know

This is a collection of conversations I'm not quite sure what to do with. They won't be presented in sequential order, but hopefully when I'm finished them all, they will produce a possible picture of a past, present and possible future for J/S. Slightly AU, since we never know WHAT the PTB will do. Or at least I don't.  
  
Hope you enjoy. Comments, questions, etc., are always welcome. Thanks as always for the beta-ing from DM. KM, I'm sorry life got too busy. I'll miss your commentary and insight.  
  
Conversations - A: You Never Know... By: Mariel  
  
Jack Malone closed his phone and looked across the restaurant table to find Samantha looking at him with a slight frown on her face. Feeling caught, he hooked the cell phone back onto his belt. He'd said too much, or his tone had given him away. Mentally, he kicked himself for not being more careful.  
  
"You don't seem terribly happy," she commented, before he could say anything.  
  
Avoiding her knowing look, he still felt compelled to answer honestly. "I'm not." He placed his hands on the table in front of him. Looking down at them, he noted the gleam of the band on his left ring finger and wondered how much he could tell her. The thought was strange to him, because he never spoke of his marriage to anyone. He'd never even been tempted to. It seemed easier that way - or had, until now.  
  
Now, sitting under the scrutiny of Samantha Spade's dark eyes, he felt an inexplicable urge to reveal more to her than he had to anyone else.  
  
"You never talk about her," she said in a soft voice.  
  
"No."  
  
"Maybe you should."  
  
Still reluctant to speak, he sat in silence for a moment. Special Agent Samantha Spade had joined his Missing Persons team two years ago. She'd seemed the perfect addition to his unit, and he'd never regretted his choice. To his surprise, however, they'd developed a rapport that at times transcended any working relationship he'd ever had. Now was one of those times.  
  
He took a deep breath and finally said, "Talking about her would mean talking about my marriage. People don't necessarily want to hear about it." In a weak attempt to avoid what he was sure was coming, he added, "Besides, marriage is something you have to live in order to understand."  
  
"Well," she offered, "I was married once. For a few months. If there's one thing it taught me, it was to recognize marital problems when I saw them."  
  
He looked at her, wondering if he should pretend total suprise. It had been in her file, and he'd always wondered about it.  
  
"A few months?" he asked.  
  
She nodded and smiled slightly. "Yeah. I was young, stupid, and in love. Or thought I was. In love, I mean. Now I know differently, but then..." She shook her head. "He was really something."  
  
Admiring the way her eyes warmed as they focussed on her memories, he couldn't help but smile. Without thinking he said, "He'd've had to have been something, to attract you."  
  
She glanced at him in surprise. Feeling oddly flustered at what she couldn't help but take as a compliment, she blushed and looked away. "We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into," she explained, "and we were so totally different in so many ways, that when you put us together in the same space, day after day, with nothing in common but our bed times..." She grimaced. "It just didn't work."  
  
"But you don't hate him." There was a certain amount of surprise in his voice.  
  
She looked at him with wide, clear eyes. "No, why would I? It just didn't work out. We weren't incompatible on purpose, it just turned out that way." She smiled slightly. "He was an okay guy, just not the right one for me to be with."  
  
He wondered what it would be like to be the right one for her. Oddly disconcerted by that thought, he forced himself to get back on topic. "Not all marriages have the potential to end so amicably."  
  
She shrugged. "We didn't have kids or possessions to fight over. Maybe we were lucky to be so young. It made it easier to cut our losses and run." Raising her eyes to meet his, she tilted her head to one side slightly. "Something tells me your situation isn't so clear cut."  
  
"No, it's not," he admitted, not feeling that she was either prying or being critical. Giving in to the urge to continue talking, he said, "We've been married more than ten years. We've got two beautiful girls-"  
  
"That you adore," Samantha broke in, smiling.  
  
He nodded. "That I adore."  
  
Before he could continue, she observed bluntly, "But you're not happy, and I'm willing to bet your wife isn't, either."  
  
She was right, and he felt a sudden release of tension when he admitted, "Yeah. Maria hasn't been happy for a while. Even this trip is bothering her. It's the second I've had to go on this month, and she's finding it more and more difficult to deal with my being away. She never used to. Lately..." his voice drifted off. Lately, everything seemed to be more difficult for her to deal with. He knew that was a sign that there were things they needed to deal with, but he'd shied away from talking about it with her. Sitting back in his chair, he took a moment to collect his thoughts, then said, "I know I spend more time at work than maybe I should, and it's hard on her. She's always known how difficult it is for me to call it quits and go home And when I'm home, I can't help but think of the things I could be doing if I was at work. That makes me really lousy company. It's not fair to her." He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I'm just in the wrong line of business for a healthy relationship."  
  
Samantha didn't disagree, but she couldn't quite fit the picture he gave of a wife and family waiting at home with the loneliness she sensed in him. She also noticed he'd spent more time discussing his wife's needs not being met than his. There had to be something more.  
  
Instinctively knowing that would be a dangerous place to tread, she chose to continue his train of thought. "Perhaps she thought your attitude towards work would change once you had a family," she suggested. "How bad is it? Do you talk? What would it take to make her happy? What would it take to make you happy?" She stopped questioning, hating herself for sounding like some sort of therapist.  
  
Jack looked down at the table. He and Maria had tried talking occasionally, but had always ended up in a screaming match, with her accusing him of refusing to compromise and him yelling at her that she didn't understand. As for what would make him happy, he honestly didn't know. He wanted some peace, maybe. A refuge. And something to fill the void he'd felt growing within himself over the past couple of years.  
  
He loved his daughters, and was pretty sure he loved his wife, but when he was home, when he looked across the room at Maria, he had come to realise that he shared nothing with her but two children and an address. Over the past few years, they had drifted apart, and now it seemed that although they shared responsibilities, routine, and their two children, those things were all that bound them together. Turning his eyes towards Samantha, it suddenly dawned on him that on a daily basis, he shared more of his thoughts and feelings with her than with his wife. The thought made him uncomfortable.  
  
He sighed, and turned his mind back to her question. What would make him happy? He looked at the woman sitting across from him, examined the way he felt, and suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to blurt out "You."  
  
The impulse frightened him.  
  
He reached over and picked up his menu. Looking at it, he commented, "Perhaps I should ask what would make you happy. I don't know about you, but I'm starved."  
  
"Now there's a neat bit of avoidance!" Her lips curved slightly, then she sobered. She, too, had been going through a period of self-examination. Sitting back, she looked at him with dark, unreadable eyes and compared his life to her own. He was lonely, couldn't afford the ties of a normal relationship, and had no one in his personal life who really understood either what he did or the emotional toll it took upon him. It sounded surprisingly familiar. The feeling of completely understanding who he was and where he was in his life swept over her. "You know, Jack," she finally said, "I think in some respects we have a lot in common."  
  
He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and something welcome, unfamiliar, and frightening began to make a place in his heart.  
  
End Conversations - A: You Never Know... 


	2. B: Where a conversation might go

Conversations - B: Where a Conversation Might Go...  
  
By: Mariel  
  
Jack read the letter one more time and then, filled with dismay, sat back heavily in his chair. Closing his eyes tightly, he monitored his reaction and realised he had more in common with Danny than one might think.  
  
Not really needing to go over them again, he opened his eyes and stared at the written words. He'd known this would happen, but had managed to set his fear aside. Now, it had come and he was forced to face it. He would have to ask her if she was interested.  
  
And would have to face the fact that she would likely say yes.  
  
Application for Transfer, Opportunity for Promotion, Staffing Request, Relocation Opportunity, Job Opening...the forms came across his desk periodically. Vivian had turned down a promotion six months ago because it would have meant moving, and she felt it was too soon to do so. Danny had turned down two offers to work in other Missing Persons units in other parts of the country, citing his desire to continue working with people he knew and enjoyed being with and to remain in a city where, at long last, he felt at home.  
  
But Samantha? What would her response be? Once, he would have known. Just months ago, he could have even predicted her exact words as she turned it down. But now? He groaned inwardly. Now, circumstances were changed. He grimaced and ran a tired hand over his face. Once, she would have stayed to be with him.  
  
Now, he feared she would leave to get away.  
  
Placing the letter down, he slid it to one side and returned to his previous thought. Yes, he had something in common with Danny, but, unlike the young agent he had so much admiration for, he had not been so successful in dealing with it.  
  
Addiction. It was a strong word, a worrisome word, a word that told of the past, present, and future in ways other words did not.  
  
His addiction had begun the first time he'd interviewed her. Like any drug, however, he had not realised the effect she had on him at first. Yes, he had recognised the pleasure of her presence, the joy of her conversation. But he had not even briefly entertained the idea that the effect of her presence would grow, had never dreamed she would become such an integral part of his life that the thought of being without her would fill him with dread. Looking back, he realised he'd been hooked the first time they'd spoken, hadn't been able to get enough of her when he'd had her, and couldn't get her out of his system now that their affair was over. Remembering their painful parting, he could freely admit - to himself, at least - that he hadn't wanted to let her go then.  
  
He certainly didn't want to let her go now.  
  
He looked through his office window and saw her blonde head bent over the day's paperwork. Sighing inwardly, he rose.  
  
"Samantha? Can you come to my office when you're finished? I have something I need to talk over with you."  
  
She looked up at him, not overly curious, her eyes dark and warm, but holding little of what they once had. He looked away quickly as the pain of his loss ripped through him again. The mouth he had kissed, the face he had caressed with his fingertips... they were as out of his reach now as her heart. He'd earned that. Deserved that. Knew she'd worked hard over the past months to make it so.  
  
It hurt. And bode ill for his hopes.  
  
"I'm finished now," she told him. "Everything's just printing off. Are you going back to your office right away?"  
  
When he nodded, she said, "I'll be there in about five minutes, then."  
  
True to her word, she was at his door five minutes later.  
  
"What is it, Jack?" The door closed behind her as she walked over and sat in the chair in front of his desk.  
  
He wondered if this was the best way to give her the information and ask his question. Would her answer be different if he had decided to take a coffee to her desk and casually give her the letter to read? Or different if he talked to her about it over lunch, or when they were out on a case? He shook his head at his thoughts. The circumstances of his asking would not change her answer - only the circumstances of their relationship could do that, and he knew there was no going back to what had once been.  
  
"I got a letter from Human Resources," he told her. Sliding the letter across his now cleared desk, he watched her as she read it, closely examining her expression for her reaction.  
  
In his presence, she was too in control to give him what he needed. When she finished, she looked up. "This is quite an honour. I don't know what to say."  
  
Not knowing what to say. That was a good sign, wasn't it?  
  
"Are you interested?" The words stuck in his throat, and he cleared it.  
  
She didn't answer straight away. Looking down at the letter again, she paused, then seemed to come to a decision. Lifting her head, she met his eyes. He saw the resolve there, and knew that she would take this route of escape. "It doesn't mention when they'd like me to start," she said.  
  
His heart sank.  
  
"I believe that depends upon how quickly we can arrange it," he told her, looking away for fear she would see his pain.  
  
"New Orleans..." she said. "I've always wanted to live there. Nice to be warm all year round."  
  
Oh, God.  
  
"A big change from New York, though," he offered.  
  
She nodded, knowing he felt uncomfortable, and understanding the reason why. She saw no alternative but to go. If nothing else, these past months had taught her that she needed distance in order to free her heart from the man who sat so calmly across from her.  
  
Aching inside, she wondered how fast it could be arranged. She looked at him and knew that quickly or slowly made no difference. It would be painful, but she had to leave, and in leaving, save herself and perhaps him, as well.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she smiled. Her face felt taut, and her lips trembled slightly as she forced them to maintain position. "Wow. This is so sudden. I guess I should call this guy," she said, indicating with a sweep of her hand the signature at the bottom of the requisition slip.  
  
Deep inside her heart, where she couldn't erase such things, the hope that he might protest her going stirred.  
  
He nodded, his heart sinking. How would he survive without her? How would he get through his days?  
  
"Do you know anyone in that office?"  
  
Her question jolted him from his self-pity.  
  
He shook his head. "You remember Terry Baldwin?"  
  
When she nodded and smiled at the memory of his being here to help on a recent case, he continued, "He ran the Missing Persons there for a few years before he took up his new position. He loved it there."  
  
"Then I probably will, too," she said, for want of anything better to say. She looked around the room. "I'll miss all this." Turning her gaze back to meet his, she wondered if she should say more, wondered if she could say aloud how much she would miss him. She decided against it. Their conversations these days had dwindled to little more than work details. It had been easier that way. No danger of getting too personal, of saying the wrong thing and dredging up memories they were both running from.  
  
No danger of ending up in bed together, swearing it was for the last time. "You don't have to accept it." The words were wrenched straight from his heart.  
  
She held his gaze silently and saw his thoughts as clearly as though he was speaking them. Waiting a moment, she finally said, "I think I do." Then, because it was late, and because she was tired and there was no one else around, she added, "For the both of us. This hasn't been good, Jack. I don't think I could have gone on like this much longer. I-" she stopped abruptly, then raised both hands palm up in a motion of futility. "Someone has to do something. You're not going anywhere; it has to be me."  
  
He knew she was right. But God, she was so wrong. She couldn't leave, she-  
  
"I'd rather you stayed." He blinked. The disbelief he had actually verbalized his thoughts showed on his face.  
  
She almost smiled, would have, perhaps, if she hadn't been hurting so badly. "I know. Me, too. But it's better if I go, and we both know why. I-" Again, she stopped abruptly, this time pausing to rethink what she would say. Her throat suddenly constricted, she finally said, "I'll call them in the morning and get more details. I think three or four weeks should be all it will take to deal with my apartment, to clear things up here, and for you to find a replacement for me."  
  
A replacement for her. The words sliced into his gut like a knife.  
  
Never.  
  
Oh, God. She couldn't go.  
  
He nodded.  
  
Samantha rose on shaking knees and looked down at him. There would be time to say some of the things she wanted to say later, perhaps, and time to consider things she would like to say but which, after careful thought, she would be wise enough not to. Deciding to leave well enough alone for the time being, she said a quiet, "Thanks for letting me know about this. I'm going home now. See you tomorrow."  
  
"See you tomorrow," he echoed softly as the door swept silently closed behind her.  
  
When she was gone, the silence in the room wept.  
  
End Conversations B: Where a Conversation Might Go...  
  
Wondering how it all came to this and how it gets resolved? Stay tuned for the fill in chapters, coming soon. I think I've got it all figured out!  
  
Thank you for the comments and questions, and especially the emails directed to me personally. You know I love talking about characters!  
  
See you next time around. 


	3. C: By the Way, I Forgot to Mention

Here's the the next installment...Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews and the interest!

Conversations

C: By the Way, I Forgot to Mention...

By: Mariel  
  
Once begun, their affair seemed to them as inevitable as the sun setting or the arrival of spring. They'd skirted around their attraction a long time, denying even to themselves that what lay between them was anything more than a passing flirtation - but it had all crashed into what they had perhaps known would happen all along. A kiss. A caress. Touches that awakened feelings that awakened responses they finally stopped trying to repress.  
  
"We've got to stop meeting like this," Samantha said into the silence, her lips curving in contentment.  
  
Lying in bed beside her, Jack smiled. Absentmindedly toying with her hair, he murmured, "Can't think of one reason why we should."  
  
"Ummmm....your job. My job." She didn't mention his wife. She was still a subject they successfully avoided.  
  
He rolled over onto his side, aligning his body perfectly with hers. Lifting up onto one elbow, he looked down at her and slowly traced gentle fingers down the side of her face and along her jawline. "What job?"  
  
She understood. None of this had anything to do with anything else. What they had together was theirs, and not a part of anything outside the warm coccoon they wrapped themselves in.  
  
Or so they tried to believe.  
  
Holding his eyes with her own, she whispered, "This feels too good to be real..."  
  
He leaned towards her and lightly touched his lips to hers. That done, he rested his forehead against hers. "It's better than that," he said softly. Being with her restored him, swept away his exhaustion, his worries, his troubles. She was his clarity, his still waters, his peace of mind. The open, hollow space inside him was completely filled when he was with her. Physical attraction and satisfaction aside, he loved being in tune with someone, loved the camaraderie, the ease of being with her.  
  
"When do you have to leave?" she asked, always conscious of time's passing.  
  
"Soon."  
  
It was the expected answer. She stilled, her heart filling with warmth and love - and with the usual sadness that always blurred the edges of their meeting.  
  
"I didn't mean-"  
  
"I know," he said. Nuzzling her, he inhaled her scent, feeling happy in spite of the wrong that happiness was embedded in. Reluctantly, he drew away from her. He really did have to go. Reality called, reminding him of responsibility and duty. Looking at her one last time, he drew a breath and felt the guilt he tried hard to keep at bay creep over him. It was old, it was cliche, but he couldn't help but think it: how could something that felt so right be so damned wrong?  
  
He sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.  
  
Still lying quietly, Samantha recogized what he was feeling. She knew he felt guilt for doing this to his wife. And knew - because Jack was Jack - that he felt guilty for doing this to her, too.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
He turned his head to look at her.  
  
She touched him lightly. "I like what we have. This is all I could ever ask for."  
  
It was true. To feel love and to be loved...that was what she had needed all her life, and what she finally had. The ties of marriage - even the ties of a legitimate relationship - weren't something she sought. This was good. For her, in the here and now, it was perfect.  
  
"That's good," he said. His sense of urgency to get back to where he should be easily distracted, he lay back down beside her and drew her against himself. He didn't want to leave her warmth, didn't want to have to face either the drive home or the home itself. His girls...they'd be asleep now, and he'd go in and kiss them, tuck them in tighter, linger over them to watch them dream. Then he would quietly slide into bed beside Maria, pretend he was too tired to talk, and wait silently until dawn, until he could rise and resume his real life - the life he craved - with the woman he now had to leave.  
  
Samantha lay quietly in his arms, listening to his heartbeat and wondering if this was really enough for him. There were depths to him she didn't understand, a sadness that even now pervaded him. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his hair, loving their intimacy. "Sometimes I think our meeting was a miracle," she murmured.  
  
"It was," he agreed easily. "Who would have thought-" He didn't have to finish the sentence. Their being together seemed totally improbable to most - had even seemed that way to themselves. Until they had found it impossible to stay apart.  
  
Lately, however, Maria had begun questioning his many late nights, his moodiness, his lack of response. She'd begun to make comments, and called him at work at unusual hours. It bothered him - frightened him, in a sense - and forced the shabbiness of what he was doing onto the miracle of his happiness. His wife, he was sure, was beginning to strongly suspect that something was not right. He had yet to speak of it with Samantha, but it weighed on his mind with increasing frequency.  
  
Sensitive to his change of mood, Samantha looked at him with dark eyes. "What's wrong?"  
  
Her question so hard on the tail of his thoughts led him to admit reluctantly, "Maria. I think she's beginning to suspect something..."  
  
When his voice trailed off and he said no more, she nodded, a sunken feeling replacing her contentment. In those sentences, she sensed the beginning of the end. She knew the man who lay beside her, knew that the very reasons she loved him were the reasons he would eventually choose to leave her. All her life she had looked for a man with certain qualities. That she should find him, and that he should end their relationship because of those qualities, was an irony she didn't like to contemplate.  
  
"If we have to stop, we'll stop," she said, unable to admit the depth of their relationship, even to herself. Surely seeing him and working with him would be better than nothing?  
  
"I don't think I can," he answered truthfully, dreading the thought of losing this solace - and not yet truly believing he would have to.  
  
"I'm not saying we end things now," she said quickly, "But if things get too dangerous...I understand. We have to at least consider it. You've your family..." She looked at him, desperately holding on to her resolve not to let emotion control her reason. And wondered how this conversation had turned so much in such a short time.  
  
He hated the tension he felt climbing into bed with them. Hated that he had taken this moment to bring something up better discussed when they were eating dinner at her table or sitting on her sofa. Anywhere but here, in her bed.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," he said, kissing her neck, but at the same time moving to go. "It's nothing we have to worry about just yet."  
  
There was silence while he rose and gathered his clothes. Watching him with dark eyes, Samantha said quietly, "We're going to have to talk about it, Jack. If Maria suspects something, you're going to be forced to talk about it. We might as well start the conversation first. At least we're not angry with each other. We both know you're not going to do anything that will cost you your family." The words hurt her and sent a strange thrill of pride through her all at the same time.  
  
He stood across the room from her, clothes in hand, and held her gaze. She was right. She was wrong. He couldn't give this up. Couldn't... wouldn't... Would... He knew he would have to.  
  
He had no choice. Maria was his wife. She deserved better than to have him sneaking around sleeping with someone else. Loving someone else. How could he explain his feelings? How could he explain that he wanted his family and wanted Samantha and wanted both ends to meet in the middle seamlessly? He looked away.  
  
He couldn't talk about their parting. Not yet. He wanted to live this, experience it, savour it. Talking about its demise seemed too defeatist, too final. Talking about the end would take away some of the elation he felt when she was present in a room. When she touched him. When he touched her. When words weren't needed...  
  
End Conversation C: By the Way, I Forgot to Mention...


	4. D: Words Don't Mean a Thing

Author's note: A little something about Jack and Maria...with Samantha as the elephant in the room. Not sure where it fits into things, but I've always wanted to look into Maria's POV, so here were are, at Maria's bedside at then end of FOII...  
  
Conversation D: ..Words Don't Mean a Thing... By: Mariel  
  
He sat by his wife until she awoke, watching wordlessly as she blinked sleep away and registered his presence.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice rough from sleep.  
  
He had no exact answer to that. While he was trying to come up with one, she sat up and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Looking at him steadily, she asked, "What happened? You look awful."  
  
Tired beyond belief, he shrugged. "We had a drop go bad. We ended up with a hostage situation. It took a bit of negotiating to get them out."  
  
She frowned. Noting the one, small drop of blood on his shirt, she asked, "Someone was hurt?"  
  
He couldn't bring himself to say her name. "One of my agents was shot."  
  
"They're okay?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Her frown remained. There was something more to this than a successful hostage negotiation.  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"To see the girls, and you."  
  
She nodded, partly understanding. In spite of their separation, and for all his rarely being there, family and home was important to him. Obviously, something had happened to remind him of that.  
  
"It was the hostage situation I watched on the news last night?"  
  
Looking down at his hands, he nodded. "Yeah. Everything worked out okay."  
  
"The news said the man's wife had been killed in 9/11."  
  
He looked tired and lost, and when he looked up at her with dark, wounded eyes, something inside her melted. He always did this to her. Made her angry, made her realise their living together was a mistake - and then that ernest, hurting little boy part of him would show up and she would question herself again. He wanted to come back. She knew it without his telling her. She sighed. All he was waiting for was her permission.  
  
She regarded him silently, wondering if she could bring herself to give it.  
  
Clenching her jaw, she shook her head. He'd cheated on her. She had no idea for how long or why or with whom, but one thing she did know was that whatever he'd shared with that other woman had not been something he'd given up lightly.  
  
That knowledge had shaken her confidence and hurt her deeply.  
  
And made her angry. She gathered that anger together and asked, "Are you here because you think we should try again, Jack? Is it that man's loss that's making you want to reconsider our marriage?"  
  
"I think we need to try again."  
  
She stared at him, her mind reeling. Just like that. That's all he thought it would take - an 'I think', and their lives would fall into line, and they'd just straighten everything out...  
  
"I'm not so sure," she said.  
  
His dark eyes held hers. "Maria, I'm sorry. I messed up. I know that. But I think we should try again. For the girls." He thought of Barry. "For us. Maybe we haven't realised how lucky we are. Maybe we've spent too much time arguing and not enough time thanking God we have so much."  
  
"Or maybe we should cut our losses and run, Jack. The girls will survive. We'll work out custody and visitation and support payments and everything, and get on with our lives. We were good together once, but we're not good married anymore. We don't meet each other's expectations. Our needs aren't the same anymore."  
  
She could see he was shocked by her words, but felt little remorse. She was tired. Tired of being angry at him, tired of being suspicious and untrusting.  
  
And tired of being hurt and afraid.  
  
She wanted to feel she had some sort of control. She wanted a normal life, with normal hours and a husband with a normal job and normal job-related problems... And a husband she trusted. One who didn't have an affair and then refuse to talk about it, except to say it was over and he was sorry and it wouldn't happen again - as though she could believe that, when every ounce of her intuition told her differently.  
  
"You think we can't make it?"  
  
His words broke into her thoughts. "I don't know, Jack," she answered, "I just don't know." Rising, she slipped her arms into the housecoat she kept slung over the end of the bed. "We'll have to talk more about this." In truth, she was frightened. No matter what they did, she felt that something would be wrong with their choice. There were too many unanswered questions, too many hurts, accusations, and memories. And the impossibility of going back. Looking at him, she forced herself not to react, to look past her first reactions and to consider the girls.  
  
Finally, she suggested, "Why don't you stay for breakfast and take the girls to school? They'd like that. Then come for supper tonight. We can talk after Kate and Hannah go to bed."  
  
She saw the indecision in his eyes, and knew immediately that there was somewhere else he needed to be. Something inside her tightened. Job or other woman, it didn't matter. Whatever it was, it took precedence, and she hated it.  
  
That he did not mention the who, where, and why of that 'somewhere else' made her suspicious it involved a woman. She grimaced, hating the feeling of mistrust and jealousy that rose up inside her, and hating that she felt it and that he could inspire it. Whatever - or whoever - the reason for his affair, still played heavily on his mind. She knew that with a weight of certainty that made her want to both weep and scream. The distance that had arisen between them had remained unchanged. His coming back would not erase whatever had taken him away in the first place. Hell, she'd spent her entire married life competing with his job. His affair had shown her she also competed with something else, something more unknown - and more frightening - and, whoever she was, she was someone who held a part of him very firmly, whether he knew it or not.  
  
So she looked across the room at him and knew without his telling her that he couldn't stay, that once again he had other, more important things to deal with. "You can't, can you?" she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "You need to be somewhere. Fine, then," she said, turning away from him abruptly.  
  
He looked at her back, unable to keep the sense of urgency he felt out of his expression. He needed to see Samantha, needed to see she was really okay. Still, he knew he needed to work on this, work on getting his family back together. Again striving to make the two ends meet in the middle, he said, "I can't stay this morning, but I can be here tonight. I promise."  
  
She turned back to look at him, then nodded woodenly. "Okay. That would be good, Jack. I'll let the girls know you dropped by to see them."  
  
He rose, feeling lost and uncomfortable. "Thanks," he told her. "I'll see you all tonight."  
  
He wondered about kissing her, wondered how she would respond if he walked across the room and touched his lips briefly to her cheek, as though nothing had changed between them. Looking into her eyes, he hesitated, and knew he should not. They would work this out, of that he was certain, but not by pretending nothing had happened. She would not allow it. He would have to regain her trust, regain the even footing he had once shared with her.  
  
God only knew how he'd manage it.  
  
She stood motionless and stared at him. The resolution to make things work that she saw in his eyes gladdened her. Her desire that he not touch her, however, made her question what the hell she was doing.  
  
Where she suspected he was going was another matter altogether.  
  
End Conversation D: ...Words Don't Mean a Thing... 


	5. E: Do You Hear What I'm Saying

Conversations E: Can You Hear What I'm Saying...  
By: Mariel  
  
It had been a long day, a terrible day, one filled with danger and near death. And now Jack and Samantha stood in his office, confronting one another.  
  
"What am I supposed to say?" she demanded.  
  
Jack heard the hurt in her voice, but did not understand its depth. Because he knew she couldn't give him the answer he needed, he shrugged and gave her an abrupt "I don't know," in response.   
  
They stood looking at one another in silence. Her question in response to his angry "What on Earth were you thinking?!" had been the wrong thing to ask, and he in turn had given the wrong answer. Both knew it.  
  
Feeling the foundation of mutual understanding they had built beneath themselves begin to crumble, Jack still felt compelled to say, "You went into a situation that nearly cost you your life. Once, I can handle. Twice, is a problem. Samantha, you're not playing by the rules. I can't let you keep doing this. I can't trust you to make safe decisions, and if I can't trust you to do that, I can't have you out in the field."  
  
His real fear, the one he couldn't verbalize, was that he would lose her. Once again, he needed someone he loved to reassure him that they would keep themselves safe. Samantha, of course, could not give him that reassurance, and had she, he would not have believed it - experience had taught him that the reassurances of loved ones were not always trustworthy.  
  
Samantha stared at him in disbelief. He didn't trust her judgement or her competence. Feeling rejected on a level more deep than she could express, she said, "I'm here, aren't I? If I'd been risking more than I should have, I wouldn't be."  
  
They had built their relationship on trusting support. Where had his gone?  
  
A knock on the door jamb interrupted their debate. "Sorry to interrupt," Danny said, eyeing first one and then the other occupant of the office. Their angry tones had reached all the way to his desk. The phone call he'd just received had given him the excuse he needed to make them aware that others were around and might hear.  
  
"We just got the call," he told them. "Simmons died on the operating table."  
  
Jack nodded and shot a quick glance at Samantha. It could have been her.  
  
Turning back to Danny, he said, "Tell Martin and Vivian I want to speak with them when they get back." He looked at Samantha, obviously not finished with her. "We'll be out in a minute."  
  
Recognising his dismissal, Danny turned and left.  
  
News of the other agent's death subdued her, but did not change Samantha's opinion of her actions. Jack was wrong. He couldn't keep her off the field. She had been doing her job. Not wanting to verbalize her feelings, she instead remembered the look in Danny's eyes as he'd spoken to them, said quietly, "He's starting to suspect something."  
  
"I know," Jack said. The irony that they seemed to have to work harder to hide their relationship now than they had when they were having their affair did not escape him.  
  
He moved to sit down behind his desk, using its bulk as a barrier between them. He was afraid. Of her. Of what it would do to him if she did something that cost her her life. He looked at her, hating the growing feeling that he was losing control of things, that, like his mother, Samantha would make a decision that would ultimately take her out of his life forever.  
  
And he would be responsible, because he would have been the cause of her newfound recklessness.  
  
"Do you need me for anything else tonight?"  
  
The abrupt question surprised him. Looking up, he responded slowly. "No. Why?"  
  
"I think I'll go home. I'm tired."  
  
He knew there had to be more than her just being tired. It had become their habit to be together after an event like this. The affair was formally over, but there were times when they could not stay apart. This would have been one of those times - one of those times when he would call Maria and say he was either going to be very late, or not home at all. He and Samantha would stay late at the office and talk - a small compensation to what they had given up, and a tribute to the value of what they had salvaged and put it its place.  
  
Their quiet conversations, held until all hours of the night over bad coffee in the dimly lit bullpen, was a ritual of reassurance, a rite both needed to perform. Tonight, however, there was no subtle acknowledgment that that would happen. Without her having to say so, he understood that she would not reappear after everyone else had left.  
  
He considered protesting, considered making some comment to let her know he wanted to be with her later, but reluctantly put the idea aside. He hadn't been home in two days. Maria would be upset if he told her yet again he wouldn't be home. The girls, he knew, were missing him. Eyeing Samantha, he decided their being apart would serve two purposes - he would make good his family obligations, and she would have time to rethink things.  
  
These thoughts running through his mind, he looked at her for a moment in silence, then finally sighed and nodded. Knowing what he was about to say would change everything, he said in a reluctant tone, "Okay. I'll see you in the morning, then."  
  
They looked across a span of silence that made them both want to weep. Their relationship would not be the same again.  
  
They'd agreed it was over months and months ago, but it hadn't been, not even for the moment it had taken to agree that is was. Now, however, they had taken a mis-step that unbalanced everything.  
  
Turning, Samantha walked through the door, allowing it to close softly behind her with a finality that shouted what they had dared not even whisper.  
  
Two months later, she accepted an offer of a promotion and a transfer to New Orleans.  
  
End 


	6. F: Sooner Would Have Been Better

Okay, so here's a little angst to add to your Monday.   
  
Thanks to all the wonderful people who took time to read and review. Thanks to Diane for the beta. KM, I'm glad you're surviving! This didn't quite turn out as I'd planned it, but hey, what does?!   
  
FYI: There's one more part after this, and then it's over, over, over!  
  
Conversation E: Sooner Would Have Been Better...   
By: Mariel  
  
Jack looked at the phone and willed it to ring. It was within his power to pick it up, dial the number, and reach her, but his hands remained firmly folded on the desk in front of him. Notice given, apartment sold, she was leaving today.  
  
With no goodbye.  
  
He had promised himself to let things go, to let her leave the way she chose. Still, the hurt of their last parting lingered, and the thought of her leaving for New Orleans left him with an unsettled, restless feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Martin poked his head in the doorway. "I'm off. You just about finished?"   
  
There was something in his eyes that said he was asking more, but Jack didn't respond to it. Instead, with a wave of his hand, he indicated a pile of reports waiting for his signature. "Yeah, I just have to sign a few of these."  
  
Martin nodded, but rather than turn to go, hesitated. He wondered if he should say something. No one knew, exactly, what had happened between Jack and Samantha, but it had become glaringly evident that whatever accord the two had once had was gone. It was also obvious that neither seemed happy about it. No one on the team had dared bring up the topic with either of them, though. Perhaps he should be the one. Opening his mouth to speak, he paused, then closed his lips firmly. It was pointless to say anything now. No matter how sad Samantha looked when Jack's name was mentioned, nothing could change the fact of her departure. "All right, then," he finally said. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Picking up one of the reports and pretending to skim its contents, Jack grunted in response. When Martin was gone, he replaced the file to its pile and turned his attention back to the phone. Glaring at it, he again willed the inert piece of black plastic to speak.  
  
Impassive, it sat and stared back at him sullenly.  
  
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, he finally gave in and reached to pick up the receiver. Hating himself for dialling, for being so weak that he couldn't let her go in peace, he dialled anyway and listened to the phone ring on the other end. He hadn't seen her for more than a week, and had not been alone with her in more than three. Allowing the whirlwind of activity caused by her move to occupy her, she had managed to keep her distance from him. He had found the lack of contact painful. Not that he didn't deserve everything he got - or in this case, what he didn't get. Perhaps she was gone already. Perhaps she had unplugged the phone, perhaps-  
  
"Hello?"  
  
The sound of her voice made him pause. "Sam," he finally said, his own voice sounding strangled.  
  
"Jack."  
  
He couldn't tell from her tone if she was glad, sad, or resigned to talk to him again.  
  
"I just wondered how things were. If everything went all right."  
  
"The movers left on schedule, and my taxi should be here in about forty minutes," she told him. "You know, I didn't know how much stuff I owned. I think a person should be forced to move every few years, just so they can clear out some of the junk that accumulates. I can't believe what I took to Goodwill..."  
  
She was grasping for things to say, and they both knew it. He didn't care, so long as he could listen to her voice. Finally, though, her chatter slowed and then stopped. A sad, hopeless silence slithered along the telephone lines between them.  
  
Finally, when he was sure she had placed the phone down and quietly walked away, she said, "Jack..."  
  
She did not continue, but the sadness in her voice made him close his eyes. He pictured her, standing alone in her darkened, empty apartment. Without taking the time to weigh the repercussions, he said what he'd wanted to say since she'd picked up her phone. "Sam, I want to see you before you go. I want to come over."  
  
He waited, not realising he was holding his breath until he released it in a rush when she quietly told him yes.  
  
"There's not much time..." she whispered. "I'll leave the door open."  
  
"I'll be right there," he said. Pulse racing with a newfound sense of urgency, he was already standing and preparing to hang up the phone.  
  


  
  


  


  
Traffic was bad - it was always bad - but tonight it seemed purposely trying to thwart him. Rain poured down in buckets, slowing traffic still further and making it difficult to see. He honked on the horn impatiently, cursing over the sound of his rapidly swishing windshield wipers. Trying to weave around a taxi stopped to take on a passenger struggling with an umbrella, he cut off another vehicle, whose driver honked angrily, adding to the cacophony of blaring horns already filling the air. Inching forward, he looked at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed. He ought to have been pulling up outside her apartment by now. Instead, he sat barely two blocks from his office.  
  
Pulling out his cell phone, he punched in her number only to have the phone bleep and warn him that his battery was low and no signal was being received. He cursed at its uselessness and threw it onto the passenger seat.  
  
Thirty minutes later, he finally arrived at her apartment. He parked illegally and rushed through the corridors to her apartment. He slowed as he reached her door. It was closed. Without knocking he knew that only gray silence stood behind it. She was gone. There was no sense of her there, only a large, gaping emptiness that pushed at his heart. She hadn't waited. Raising his hand, he hit the door with his fist in frustration, the need to see her still filling him.  
  
She was gone, and it was over.  
  
Really over.  
  
Raising his hand more gently this time, he touched the cool surface of her door.  
  
Gone....  
  
The hollowness that had occupied his gut these past weeks shrieked.   
  
End   
Conversations E: Sooner Would Have Been Better...  
  
Diane, I'm sorry. There are new bits in this even since the last one you beta'd. I can't resist the stupid edit feature after I've uploaded....It's a sickness, what can I say?!  



	7. G: Words Don't Always Say Enough

Thanks to everyone who wrote and reviewed. This is the final installment. It's not at all what I planned it to be, but then again, the series didn't do what I'd hoped it would, either, so it's all par for the course! I hope everyone has a great summer - keep reading - and to all the great authors out there - keep writing!  
  
Conversations G: Words Never Say Enough...   
By: Mariel  
  
"Agent Spade."  
  
The sound of his voice made her pause. Low, familiar, warm....it sent shivers down her spine and warmed her heart all at the same time. She stared at the whiteboard she was writing on, unable to remember how she had planned to finish what she had started. Giving up, she carefully controlled her features as she slowly lowered her arm and turned around.  
  
"Agent Malone," she said, unconsciously matching her tone to his. "I wasn't expecting you until later today."  
  
Their eyes locked. It had been one year since they'd last seen each other, one year since Jack had hung up the phone after promising to be right there, and then left her to wait in vain. She'd waited until the taxi came. Waited until the cabbie impatiently told her if they didn't leave immediately, she'd miss her plane - if she hadn't already. Finally accepting that Jack had changed his mind and was not coming, she had reluctantly agreed to go. In the months between then and now, there had been no contact between them - not an email, not a phone call, not an accidental meeting at a conference. Wondering how it could have ended so completely, the empty, wordless silence between them had stalked her days.  
  
And Jack's, too.  
  
Now the silence between them spoke volumes.  
  
Nothing had changed.  
  
She could see that old, familiar warmth in his eye, and could feel her pulse quicken in response to it. Drinking in the sight of him, she stood as frozen as he, until someone at the conference table cleared their throat.  
  
"Um, Samantha, are you going to introduce us?"  
  
Abruptly brought back to an awareness of her team sitting at the table in front of her, she glanced over at the agent who had spoken, and nodded. Eyes drawn back to Jack, she said, "This is Special Supervisory Agent Jack Malone, from our New York Missing Persons Department." She then tore her eyes away from him long enough to introduce the three people seated at the table. Jack spared them a quick, friendly nod of acknowledgment and a "pleased to meet you," and then returned his attention to Samantha.  
  
All too aware of his gaze, Samantha tried to control her voice from betraying her reaction to Jack's presence. "As you heard yesterday, Graham Spaulding dropped out of sight soon after his release. He is rumored to be headed this way. Jack will be with us for a couple of days, investigating leads." Eyes still trained on Jack, she added, "We'll help him in any way we can."  
  
With her team looking on with interest, she and Jack continued to hold one another's gaze. Finally, Jack stirred. Samantha saw him hesitate, as though wondering if he could draw closer, and then watched as he glanced at the people sitting at the table. His sense of propriety winning, he stood his ground. "It looks like I caught you in the middle of something, Sam. I have to go meet with the Assistant Director. Will you be here later?"  
  
At her nod, he smiled slightly. "Then I'll stop by on my way out." He paused, then threw caution to the wind. "Perhaps we could go to dinner when you're finished. Are you free?"  
  
Unable to help herself, Samantha smiled. To hell with people watching. To hell with what they might think. And double to hell with the fact his "Sam" would cause comment amongst her team. Her heart sang. "That would be nice," she replied, knowing it would be heaven.  
  
"Yeah," he agreed, reluctantly taking his eyes off her and moving in the direction of the AD's office.  
  


-SSS-  


  
They'd taken their time eating at a restaurant she'd discovered shortly after her arrival to New Orleans. Avoiding anything too personal, they kept their conversation light, focussing on the news and exploits of others. Now, strolling slowly through the busy French District, words began to fly easily, the undercurrent of warm tension that had arisen upon Jack's arrival blossoming.  
  
Heavy as the warm, humid air surrounding them, however, the circumstance of their parting nudged them incessantly, refusing to be ignored. There were things that needed to be said, questions begging to be asked and answered, no matter how sure they were that what had once been was there still. A discussion of those last few hours in New York, no matter how difficult, had to be completed in order to set whatever was about to happen next on a solid foundation.  
  
Jack shoved his hands into his pockets as they strolled down the street. Wanting to open the conversation, wanting to let her know some of what he was feeling, he said, "I've missed this."  
  
The words, spoken in a low tone, surprised neither of them.  
  
Samantha nodded. "Me, too."  
  
Hesitantly, not wanting to disturb the delicious accord they had fallen into over dinner, but knowing she had to ask, Samantha questioned him, "Why didn't you ever call?" Looking away, she continued, "I thought you'd phone, to explain why you decided not to come."  
  
"You were gone when I got there. I thought you'd changed your mind. Thought it better not to see me."  
  
She looked at him in surprise. "You came?"  
  
"I was on my way as soon as I hung up. But traffic was awful, my cell phone was dead..." his voice trailed off.  
  
She moved closer to a building to get out of the way of people passing and stopped. Looking into his eyes earnestly, she said, "I waited as long as I could. I tried calling your office and your cell phone, but there was no answer. Then the taxi arrived. I kept him waiting, but when you didn't come and didn't call, I thought you'd changed your mind. When you didn't contact me here in New Orleans, I was sure of it."  
  
"You didn't phone to say you were sorry you couldn't wait. I assumed...I thought..." His voice petered off. A whole year gone. The stupidity of it appalled him. It could have all been fixed with a simple phone call neither of them had felt able to make.  
  
She saw the look in his eye and felt the same sense of loss. On top of that, however, hope quickly began to build. She'd heard about Jack and his wife's divorce, of course, but wanted to hear about it from him. "I heard about you and Maria. How is she doing?"  
  
Jack made a gesture that they should resume walking. As they moved out onto the sidewalk again, he said, "Fine. She and the girls are living in Chicago. She's always wanted to move back there and when the opportunity to go came up, she grabbed it."  
  
She looked at him sideways. "And you stayed in New York?"  
  
He nodded. "She thought it best. It wasn't working." His wife's stark announcement that she didn't want to be married to him anymore and was leaving for Chicago with the girls without him, had put him in shock for weeks afterward. It had been a bitter pill, and had not settled well.  
  
"I'm sorry," Samantha said. To her surprise, she really was. Jack put great importance on his family and had sacrificed his happiness in order to keep it intact. To have lost his girls in this way must have been painful. "So what are you doing with yourself when you're not at work?" she asked.  
  
He smiled wryly. "I'm getting lots of reading done. Martin and Danny have attempted to introduce me to New York's nightlife, but-"  
  
His expression said everything, and she laughed easily. Slowly, however, her smile faded. Tilting her head to one side, she looked at him and said slowly, "I can't picture you alone." She hated the very thought of it. And was glad he seemed to have found no one to change the situation.  
  
"Yeah, well, I've been doing all right." He turned dark eyes to meet hers, then looked away. As casually as he could, he asked her, "And what about you? Are you seeing anyone? Ready to settle down yet?"  
  
She shook her head and looked down at her feet as they walked. "No time. And I don't think I'm ready, just yet." She lifted her eyes. "I-" She didn't know how to continue. A sudden desire to put her arms around his neck and hold herself close to him almost overwhelmed her.  
  
Jack stopped walking and turned to face her fully. "Whenever I think of us, I think of what a mess I made of it," he told her. Oblivious to the people moving around them, he continued, "I didn't mean things to happen the way they did. I don't know what I wanted, but I never, ever, wanted you to leave."  
  
She looked away from him, wondering what she should say. Finally, she reminded him, "We were in a bad place, Jack. I wasn't getting over you, and our falling in and out of bed...it got to be too painful. It wasn't right. But it was no better when we tried to distance ourselves from each other. And when you began to question my performance at work...it just got to be too much. I needed you to trust me, and I felt as though you didn't any more." She gestured with her hands. "Everything seemed to be falling apart between us."  
  
He stood looking at her in silence. He'd missed her. Not just after Maria left for Chicago, but from the moment he'd arrived at her door to find her gone. She was right: everything had been falling apart between them. But now....he gave in to his desire to touch her. He grazed her face lightly with the tips of his fingers, then rested his hand on her shoulder and stroked her jaw with his thumb. "I'm sorry," he said softly.  
  
If the counselling he'd sought after Samantha's departure had taught him anything, it was that he needed to explain his role in their relationship falling apart. She had said she felt she'd lost his trust, but it had been a matter of trust, not really. It had been a matter of fear - his fear that perhaps she was on the same destructive path his mother had travelled. His mother had reassured him that she would be fine. His mother had then acted in a way that had taken her from him permanently. In a very real sense, Samantha had already been taken away from him when they had ended their affair. The thought of having her do something that would take her away completely had been too much for him to handle.  
  
"I never stopped thinking about you," he said, suppressing the urge to kiss her right there in the street.  
  
She looked at him, the hurt in her eyes making him wince. "The way I felt about you...it didn't go away. It's been hard, being here and never hearing from you, and wondering what went wrong, and wondering what you were doing and if you ever thought of me. I haven't been happy, Jack. The idea of coming here wasn't as good an idea as I thought it would be. It didn't help me get over you, it just made me sadder."  
  
He had spent his days wondering if she hated him, wondering if he had any idea how miserable he was without her. "I wish..." he began aloud. He hesitated, then admitted, "I wish I hadn't made the decisions I made, hadn't reacted the way I did." He understood that, under the circumstances it had been his way of coping with things he couldn't face, but now, he felt nothing but regret - and thankfulness that there seemed to be hope for them now.  
  
"I'm glad we're here," he said, knowing that she would finally hear what she'd needed to hear ages ago. He noticed his surroundings and motioned that they should resume their walk. "I think we need to talk. I don't think I've ever told you the whole story about my mother," he said...  
  
-SSS-  
  
It was late, and time to go home. Not wanting to leave him yet, though, Samantha suggested they stop for coffee. At her place. "Going there will save us time - it's only a few blocks from your hotel," she explained, knowing that the real reason for her asking had all to do with something else entirely.  
  
It had not taken long to reach her home. Located in an old, traditional southern home that had been divided into four spacious apartments, they had silently walked up the broad flight of stairs leading to the second floor landing. She moved to the door on her right and he watched as she found her key and opened it. He followed her in.  
  
Closing the door softly behind him, he turned to find her standing right in front of him. He could tell she was waiting to say something important, so he stood still, conscious of nothing but her.  
  
"Thank you for explaining things to me," she said. She paused. "Thank you for trusting me enough to explain it."  
  
Without speaking, he reached out and brought her unresisting body against his. He held her tightly. "God, I've wanted to do this since I saw you this afternoon," he murmured into her hair. Inhaling deeply, he took in her scent, treasuring his recognition of it, and of the feel of her in his arms again.  
  
She stepped back slightly. Felt the loss of his touch, but endured it. "I've missed you so much," she whispered.  
  
"I'm here now."  
  
She smiled, her eyes misty with emotion. "Yes, you are. So kiss me, please."  
  
He obliged.  
  
After what could have been hours or merely minutes, she slowly brought her head back so that she could see his face. What she saw there confirmed all the hopes she had held and hadn't been able to walk away from. There was no mistake now. He was here and would remain here. Kisses and caresses would be their conversation for now. Tomorrow, however, they would decide their future.  
  
Together, they'd work things out.  
  
Smiling, she gave herself up to the deliciously soft sensations of shared silence.  
  
End   
Conversations G: Words Never Say Enough... 


End file.
